The Moving Thoughts

The Least Of A Man

I can't be surprised enough.
Greeting the birds flying overhead.
Approaching the chaotic hustling south.
To bring home hunger's bread.

I walk past the noisy traffic.
Watching tireless efforts of hawkers.
Whose profit remains a rhetoric.
Circling taxis and range rovers.

Oh, let the dedicated family man survive.
For he feeds the kids and a wife.
He finds means of a better welfare.
Making his view of the workplace a warfare.
Duties might slit his throat to sorrow.
Or he slay duties back home a hero.